


Vorbi Ta Cicatricele

by Caesar_Of_Rome



Category: Rhett/Link
Genre: Bloody Violence, Blowjobs, Fisting, Gladiator Arin Hanson, Gladiator Dan Avadan, Gladiator Rhett, Greecian Princess Christi, I Suck At Tags And Warnings, Lions everywhere, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rape, Roman Prince Link, Rome(47 BC)AU, Strangers to Enemies to Lovers, This is my first time, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-08-09 01:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16440368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caesar_Of_Rome/pseuds/Caesar_Of_Rome
Summary: Charles Lincoln Neal III, son of Emporer Neal, does not believe in the power of force and war. Even the sight of blood makes him queasy. It’s hard enough to be a figurehead of Rome when you can’t look at blood, can’t find the right pleasure in a woman, and can’t take your eyes off of a specific reigning champion gladiator.What a decade this will be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction on here. Mostly I’ve written them but never showed them to anyone, so... please don’t think me a total freak for this, lol!  
> I hope you enjoy this story!

The morning sun scorched the horizon, turning the vast plains and sandy wastelands from their midnight shades to bold hues. Not many stirred at this hour. Citizens of Rome snoozed soundly in their stone, plaster, and brick homes completely deaf to the distant sounds of the clashing of mental and roaring of mighty man.

It was the Colosseum, pride and joy of Rome, where these sounds emerged. The hundreds upon hundreds of empty stone seats towered high over the oval sand pit where two men greeted the coming of day with sword sparks and trash talk. Neither seemed old enough to be soldiers and both seemed not the right shape for ring warriors, but they still tried. After a few more fatal, yet missed, blows dished to one another the two came to a halt and haunched over to gulp in the dewy morning air.

”Ugh! How long have we been doing this?!” One of them groaned and ran his sweaty palms through his bushy black mane. The other didn’t answer him, just simply fell onto his round stomach and panted, not caring about the sand getting into his skin tight beard. Both swords had been discarded to their sides while they regained their composure and allowed the air to replenish their bodies. However, the man with the mane felt a shiver of fear run through him that wanted to make him grab his weapon for protection when he looked over into the blackened shadows of an arena enterance. The man on his stomach noticed the look in his friend’s eyes and gulped as he turned to see for himself.

To the untrained eye it would seem that nothing was there. No threats, no beasts, no onlookers. But the two had been around long enough to sense the aura of the third man who stood tall and glared at them from the darkness. No, not a man. A demon.

The two gulped and squeaked when they heard the sounds of sand crunching beneath leather. The demon approached at an agonizingly slow pace, knowing how to toy with the two mouse-like men. The sun’s light slowly crept over the Colosseum’s walls and shrouded the two, giving them a small sense of security, but not yet reaching the shadowed figure that continued towards them. It got closer and closer and nearly was toe-to-toe with them when the amber rays finally began to paint the figure’s features.

Nothing but a man. Tall (6’7 perhaps), muscular from the workout of battles day-in-day-out, olive skin dusted with pale marks being remnants of the fights he’s seen and won, a sand colored Well-groomed beard that  moved seemlesly with his annoyed snarl, and steely grey/green eyes that bore into even the most ferocious beast’s soul. The two men were tangled in each other now, both trying to protect and sacrifice one another to the man. “H-Hey!” The bushy maned man chuckled and scrambled to his feet to be a little bit eye-level with the man, but when they made eye contact he suddenly shrank back into sitting position on the sand. The tall man huffed and ran a large hand through his fluffed up dirty blonde hair.

”You two...” He growled lowly. “Are very. Loud.”

The two gulped and hung their heads. The man picked up the swords and turned on his heel. “You aren’t ready for real weapons.” He spat before striding back to the entrance he came from, both men scrambling after him. “Y-Yes we are! Uh... s-sir..!” The man with the round stomach stuttered, blonde streak in his hair falling in front of his eyes. The tall man said nothing nor gave them a glance as he set the swords onto a rack with multiple other weapons then continued on into a long hall with multiple doors. The two men sighed and watched as the taller man began to enther into his quarters past one of the doors, but they were all suddenly stopped by the sound of rushing footprints on the sand approaching them.

The tall man looked down the hall and saw a soldier clad in golden armor and a red cape rush towards him, seemingly out of breath. He raised a brow. “Yes?” He asked, tone uncaring and cold. The soldier straightened up and bowed his head a bit. “The Emporer has requested audience with the champion, Rhett McLaughlin, regarding tonight’s match.” The words came out slightly choked but they were enough to make the tall man straighten his back. The two men watched him as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Immediately?” He asked, to which the soldier nodded vigorously.

The two men exchanged mischievous glances as the tall man and the soldier began striding off. “Have fun!” The round stomached man called after them, earning a slap upside the head from the other man. “Arin! Are you trying to piss him off more?” The bushy maned man scolded.

”Jesus, Dan! I’m just joking!” Arin huffed. After the small exchange, the two retreated to their quarters quietly.


	2. 2

The soldier strode proudly through the empty streets of the city with the tall man, Rhett, in tow behind him.  
From the Colosseum to the Emperor’s palace was a good 15 minutes on foot, not to mention they had to climb a practical mountain to get to it. The palace, perhaps, was strategically placed as from its hight anyone could look over the whole of Rome and the plains beyond where the enemy could march, but it was too damn high for Rhett’s liking. Hights... what a trivial thing to be frightened of.

He found this quality of himself pathetic often times. How he could face the most fierce man, stomach the gore and stench of death in the area, but hardly climb a 12 step ladder without feeling his heart sink to his stomach. He had tried many times to overcome that fear, but every time he had failed. Now he was just glad no one else knew of his weakness. Though Micah probably had his suspicions when he turned and saw Rhett huddling close to the side of the cliff as they walked up the elevated trail leading to the palace.

At last, they had arrived. The sun was high in Robin’s Egg Blue sky and a sun dial in the courtyard of the palace indicated it was around 8 O’clock AM. The palace was made of white stone and held up by pillars of marble. Colorful flower beds acted as homes for the lovely maidens who tended to them delicately. As Rhett walked by them, a few of the women blushed and whispered to each other, hushed giggles surrounding them before they continued on with their work. He recognized those women.  
His humble prizes after each match he had won in the arena.  
As he ascended the steps, Micah leaned in to whisper to him. “So let me do the talking. Just bow and keep your head down.” He advised and dusted off Rhett’s bare shoulder before entering the palace with him.

Past the front entrance of the intricate building was a long and wide hall where two inground hot spring baths sat to the right and left of the aisle that which Micah and Rhett walked. In the baths were woman of all colors and types with bodies of angles smooth and soft. The water was decorated with violet and red petals, better to enhance the beauty of the Sirens who’s intoxicating giggles and glances nearly made Rhett forget his place.  
At the head of the hall sat a white robed old man on a stone throne decked out with colorful fabrics from all over the state.  
He lounged and laughed with some more women and drank from a tall bottle. When he noticed Micah and Rhett approaching he quickly stood and took a long swig from the bottle.  
“Ah! Micah! I see you brought company!” He laughed and strode towards them quickly.

Rhett watched wide eyed at the drunken man. He had only ever seen the Emporer in his box at the Colosseum, stone faced and stoic alongside a different woman every time. It was no secret he was a drunk and a womanizer, but it’s odd to see him like this for the first time.  
Rhett visibly tensed up, muscles rippling just slightly, when the Emperor completely bypassed Micah and grasped his biceps with a booming laugh. “Wow! STRONG!” He laughed and sized Rhett up from head to toe. “I mean, I’ve seen you in the area, but up close.... just WOW!”  
Rhett gulped and nodded softly.  
“Thank you..?”  
The Emperor giggled like a child as he swayed to Rhett’s side.  
“Micah, you’re dismissed. Rhett, walk with me.” He ordered, a waved of his hand towards Micah, before turning to lead Rhett down a long hallway.  
Rhett followed silently as they passed by one of the pools, earning coos and chirps of delight from the bathing women.

From the outside the palace didn’t seem all that big, but even the most cunning and intellectual person could get lost in the vast winding hallways and rooms. The Emperor lightly swayed back and forth as he walked between Rhett and the tall openings between the pillars which allowed sunlight to soak in from the courtyard.

“Rhett, you are an admirable warrior.” The Emperor complemented. “You have been the reigning champion for over three years now. Enemy soldiers have been thrown in with you, and what do you do? You shred them!” He cackled and patted the other’s shoulder.  
Rhett chuckled a bit with him, but couldn’t help but be suddenly reminded of his latest match. A captured enemy. A young boy thrown in with him. He didn’t want to hurt him, but... he knew the consequences if he didn’t.  
That boy was destined to die either way.

The two continued further on down the hall, Rhett too deep in his thoughts to properly acknowledge the Emperor’s praises, when suddenly a figure turned into the hall in front of them. Rhett’s grey/green eyes snapped to the figure and when he took it the stranger’s outward details he had to hold his breath.

Eyes the color of the clearest ocean grazed over the written words on worn parchment in a leather bound book, thin and well toned body moved gracefully beneath silk purple robes and a white cotton blouse beneath, and hair the color of pepper dusted with salt waved elegantly to one side atop the narrow head. This stranger seemed knowing, well educated, and was most definitely without a doubt beautiful. Rhett never really associated with other people outside of the arena, but surely he would think he had seen them around the city before?  
It was only when the Emperor rushed the stranger that Rhett released the breath he was holding.

“There you are! Come! Meet our guest!” The Emperor smiled and practically dragged the stranger to Rhett so they could be toe to toe with one another. Those blue eyes were now confused rather than focused and the neat hair had been tousled slightly, all as the stranger met eyes with Rhett.  
“Rhett, it is my deepest honor to present you to my son, Charles Lincoln Neal III.”


	3. Chapter 3

Rhett wasn’t sure when he developed tunnel vision. Or when he became hard of hearing. Could these things just suddenly happen? Everything around him, around the stranger, became blurred and and toned out. He had never felt this way before except in the arena where he was supposed to focus on his opponent. What was it about this man that prevented him from simply nodding and looking away? As his mind raced, his eyes caught the last movements of Charles Link Neal III’s lips. Gods, those lips... glossed, rosy, not a hint of cracks or lines...

”Rhett?” The Emperor tilted his head and lightly patted Rhett’s shoulder, snapping him out of his daze. Rhett blinked a few times and shot confused glances between the two. The Emperor chuckled, but the perfect lips of Charles simply curled into an upturned sneer which confused Rhett. What had he missed? “Rhett, he was asking if you would be at the feast tonight?” The Emperor beamed with a bright grin. Charles, however, continued to snarl before shaking his father’s hand from his back. “I said no such thing.” He huffed and gave Rhett a harsh glare then straightened his back, cracking open his book once again. “Honestly, father, it amazes me that you would even think of me associating with a murderer.”

”A-a what..?!” Rhett blurted, deeply offended by the Prince’s word choice. Though Charles seemed unfazed as he pushed past Rhett to continue down the hall. Rhett’s eyes followed him but couldn’t help but wander down to the silk wrapped tightly around that narrow waist... Jesus, what was going on all of a sudden! His attention was turned forward when the Emperor sighed and rubbed his face. ”I’m sorry Rhett. My son, he’s... he’s just... ugh! He one of these new types of people. The kind that don’t believe in war and bloodshed for the greater good.” He threw his arms up in frustration and Rhett almost wanted to do the same.

There was a major downside to being a gladiator. Every match he had, the mob of protesters grew larger and larger. A newer movement to try and end the violence and death in the Colosseum. But as long as Rome stood tall, everyone knew that that wouldn’t happen. Perhaps this night’s match would show them that once and for all...  
“Sir, why have you called me here?” Rhett inquired having realized he had not yet been given a reason for his presence. The Emperor spared him a passing glance before humming thoughtfully and walking into the courtyard. Rhett followed close, quietly taking in the sight of the large area. The middle of the courtyard dawned a large marble fountain with a statue of Dionysus grasping an overflowing challis in one hand and a bundle of wine grapes in the other, around the spectacle were more flowerbeds with more lovely maidens and more statues on pedestals. The Emperor stroked his long beard quietly before dusting off a bust of Pluto. “Rhett, I’ve called you here because tonight you will be fighting an admirable opponent. A General from Greece.”

”Greece sir?” He cocked his head a bit. This was nothing new. He had fought many Greek soldiers, granted never a General but still. The Emperor nodded and turned to him but didn’t make eye contact. “Yes. In fact, that’s why we are having a feast tonight. To welcome the royal family of Greece to our humble Rome.” He walked to the fountain and tested the water with his fingertips. Rhett nodded and followed. “And you would like me... to.. not kill my match tonight?” He took a stab in the dark, earning a smile and slap on the back from the Emperor. “Now you’re getting it! But still a little off.” He smiled wider. “Yes, I don’t want you to kill your match. In fact... I want you to throw the match!”

The Emperor spoke with such confidence, arms thrown open wide as Rhett began to cough and choke on the air he was breathing. “Th-throw..?! Sir, I-I can’t..!” He quickly began to protest, nearly falling to his knees, then the Emperor grasped both of Rhett’s shoulders. “Calm down McLaughlin. You won’t die. Just take a small sword knick and play it up as major injury. It is important we don’t damage the ego of those Greeks. Especially since we are trying to forge strong alignments.”

”B-but sir... y-you don’t understand, I have a streak! If I give it up now, I...!” Rhett had begun to flounder. How he wanted to plead for the Emperor to retract his order because if Rhett threw this match then he would’ve lost his status and promise of becoming a soldier... however, it was important to remember his place and understand that the Emperor was not his friend. Just his ruler.

The Emperor smiled at Rhett’s sudden silence. “I knew you would understand McLaughlin.” He hummed and with that said, began to return inside. But not before snapping and turning to the dumbstruck gladiator. “Oh! Also, I would like you to be at the feast tonight. You are well deserving of your praises to be sung.” The Emperor flashed that bright grin after speaking then finally rushed inside, leaving Rhett to ponder his situation carefully.  
Throw the match. How could the Empror ask of him such a thing? It would ruin him and his chances of the promising future he had worked towards all these years. Frustrated, Rhett sat on the edge of the fountain and buried his face in his large, calloused hands.

”Aw.” A voice called out in mock pity. Rhett looked up and around slowly. The maidens were gone and all that remained in his trained field of vision were a pair of Saphire gems in the shadows behind a pillar, gazing at him with unwavering intensity. Strange how he suddenly was not in the right mood to see such a wonder. From the shadows emerged the graceful figure of Charles Lincoln Neal III, robes still tight around that little waist and a new book beneath his tan skinned arm. He carefully strided towards Rhett as if he were a wild animal, arms crossing over his taut stomach. “What’s wrong? Barbarian not getting his kill today?” He teased with a shit eating grin. Rhett’s frown deepened. Funny how no less than 10 minutes earlier those widely curved lips could’ve made him do anything.

”I thought you didn’t associate with murderers.” He spat, hoping his uninterested tone would give hint to Charles. The Prince, however, only grinned wider and shifted his weight as to allow one narrow hip to jut out into a gentle curve at his side. “Oh, I know. But I just can’t help myself when people get exactly what they deserve.” He spoke smoothly.  
His words made Rhett shoot to his feet and come nearly nose-to-nose with him, eyes intense with anger. Charles went unfazed.  
“What makes you think I deserve this? Do you even know the rules of the ring?” He growled, pointing a finger in the man’s chest. Then Charles’s grin wavered as he pushed away the hand. “I don’t need to know the rules to spot a killer in the crowd.”  
Rhett opened his mouth to protest, but quite frankly he just felt ready to sleep. Or tear something apart at the very least. When he didn’t answer for a few seconds Charles grinned again.

“I figured as much. You can’t even hold proper conversation.” He practically purred, sending gross chills up Rhett’s spine. He couldn’t raise a hand to the Prince... but OH how desperately he wanted to. There was only one thought that gave him a microscopic sense of satisfaction and made him straighten up to full height, causing him to stare down the other man. “Maybe. But we’ll see how you do tonight when you watch the match.” He chuckled softly to himself when Charles’s eyes widened just a bit for a second before narrowing and his lip curling into that same sneer from before.  
“What are you talking about? You can’t kill the General.”

“You’re right, I can’t.” Rhett shrugged then leaned down to meet the other’s eye level. “But then there’s no need is there? We will still be able to cut flesh, break bones... blood will spill whether you like it or not.” He raised a teasing brow, smile wide now as Charles seemed to flinch slightly at his violent depiction before stomping his foot on the sand.  
“A-And what makes you think I’ll be there? For the whole of three years you’ve been in that ring, I’ve never gone to see one match!” Charles’s attempt to shrink Rhett’s advantages made the Gladiator laugh softly.  
“Because, apparently unlike you, I know the rules of Royals. If that General will be in that ring tonight then the family from Greece will be in their high class box watching the match. Your father will be there with another woman no doubt and who else?” He paused to watch the Prince’s expression change from accusing to knowing before starting again. “So tell me now you won’t be there?”  
With that said, he stood proud and left down the hallway.

Charles was left to clench his trembling fists.  
“Yeah, well..! Don’t think that I’ll be there to cheer you on..!” He called out, but it was no use.  
The Gladiator had left the building.


	4. Chapter 4

The once glorious morning had bled slowly into a slightly dreary afternoon and in the blink of an eye that had crept into a dreadful evening. Rhett hadn’t gotten the sleep he needed and had taken to training non-stop during the day with Arin and Dan. By the time the sun had dropped past the horizon in the west, dragging forth the night time, both men had been beaten a number of times and were now sitting beneath Rhett.  
“Look, is this really necessary?” Dan shrugged carelessly. “Who cares about some meathead Greek? Just take the cut and get over it.”

“That meathead Greek-“ Rhett growled and grabbed Dan by the crook of his neck, shaking him forcefully. “Is their best general. If I take his injury without a fight then I’ll have lost my honor as well as my status.” He explained then harshly dropped the writhing Dan. Arin patted his friend on the shoulder then stood to follow Rhett who was walking to the exit to grab a different weapon.  
He stepped lively but stood far enough from the giant that if he made him mad he would have a head start. “Rhett, uh... sir. Um... th-this doesn’t seem like it’s just about the fight.” He squeaked.  
Rhett turned his head a bit towards the man then returned to thumbing through the weapons to find one he hadn’t tried yet. “What are you talking about?” He huffed.  
Arin shrugged. “Well there’s... Rumors. Y’know?”

At that, Rhett faced him wide eyed. “What kinds of rumors?” He could feel his heart rate pick up a bit. What could people possibly know about him that he hadn’t outwardly revealed himself? Arin shrugged again and looked down as he searched for his words.  
“W-Well... about you and... the Greek Princess.”  
Once he finished he took a leap backwards. Rhett gulped and felt his heartbeat slowly return to its normal pace, turning back towards the weapons rack and pulling out a whip. He sighed softly and messed with the whip a little.  
“Yeah, well... whatever you heard it isn’t true.” He spoke softly and returned the whip to its spot. Arin gulped and scratched his thin beard.  
“E-Even the rumors that you and her were together for a long time?”

“I said it ISN’T TRUE!” Rhett snapped, shooting Arin a smoldering glare before standing and heading to his quarters. Dan had finally caught up with his friend just in time to see the door slam behind Rhett.  
He ran his hands through his messy quaf of hair in attempt to distract his mind from the thoughts and memories flooding back to him. He said the rumors weren’t true, but alas they were. Image after image greeted him until the most beautiful memory of them all found him and threatened to tear him apart.  
From a time when he wasn’t a Gladiator, just classified as a simple boy.  
On the edge of a tall cliff her and him stared out at the crashing azure waves beneath them, limbs entangled as to not let either of them seperate even an inch. He could still remember the feeling of her wheat golden hair tickling his cheek as she rested her head on his shoulder and the way her already bright eyes sparkled when he gave her a small gift.  
A tiny opal gem atop a silver band. It was in no way a proper proposal given their majorly different social classes, but back then they looked upon that ring as a promise. Rhett was to leave for Rome in search of better luck, so on that ring they made a vow that one day they would return to one another and on that day be wed.  
It had already been 13 years since that dreamlike day.  
Would she even recognize him as she sat in her box and watched the fight tonight? Would she still remember that day like he has?

In the midst of his thoughts he hadn’t realized that he had layed down until the sound of his door opening made his body instinctively shoot up into sitting position. Now standing in the doorway was Micah, helmet under arm and cape draped over one shoulder proudly. He gave Rhett a stern look of slight empathy as he announced, “It’s time.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Colosseum thrummed with with aura of the excited citizens of this country and foreign alike. The arena glowed with the light of a hundred fire breathing torches and the stone bench levels trembled with every stomp and roar of the crowd. Charles had never felt more of his own element, it was plain in the way he held himself as he strode through the nearly emptied halls with two soldiers at both of his sides. He was stiff in his shoulders, sweat droplets beaded and ran across his skin from the heat of the night, and he couldn’t get over the overwhelming fact that once he entered that watch box he would be greeted by his father with a maid in his lap, the royal guard Micah, and a total stranger who he would have to act completely drawn to.  
Act... that’s right. That’s all this was. An act. It’s always been an act for him but damned he was going to acknowledge it now. Especially since he met that pompous ass earlier that day, what was his name... Bret? Anyways, it didn’t matter now. If he could survive the rest of the night without trouble then he could go about his show called Life without ever having to face that man again.

Charles soon found himself standing in front of the curtains that led to the watch box, the soldiers standing guard at either side of the archway. He took a few deep breaths, mustering up his courage, before grasping the curtains and yanking them back from his path. He was met with cheers from the crowd below when he stepped fully into the light and waved to them in a show of gracious gratitude. “Ah! Lincoln!” The Emperor boomed and hugged his son tight with a bright grin. “I almost figured you wouldn’t come.”  
Charles sighed softly and rolled his eyes.  
“Of course I came father. I, too, have my duties.” When his father laughed once more and moved to stand at his side, Charles suddenly got his first look at her as she approached him slowly.  
Hair like yellow ribbons which sat atop her head in a braided bun, skin pale like snow and glistening with a bit of sweat like his own, eyes the color of the softest sea foam gazing up at him as she stopped in front of him, and the body of a slender Wood Nymph. Charles’s strong suit in education was Mythology and he wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t read before of a creature such as this. She was a true beauty.  
When she stopped walking she bowed lowly to him. “Prince Charles Lincoln Neal III, it is an honor to finally meet you.” She spoke with a sort of confidence and a hint of a strange accent, though he didn’t think too much on it before returning the bow humbly.  
“The honor is mine, Princess Christi, to have finally been graced by your...” he paused and slowly took her hand to place a gentle kiss against her delicate knuckles. “Angelic presence.”

The Princess gazed at him for a short while, seeming to question his actions before blushing and giggling softly. He stood and felt a sense of pride in his heart. She was pretty and seemed nice. This was the first time he’d ever felt that way towards any woman. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all?  
After their small greeting he led her back to her seat where he sat next to her quietly, not once looking away until his father stood tall and waved to hush the crowd. Silence fell at his command.  
“Citizens!” He shouted. “To see you here tonight is an honor, you show your support for our humble gladiators in this manner. Now I implore you to show that same support to the rulers of Greece who have traveled far to bear important news!”  
As he announced them, the Emperor and Emperess stood from their seats, earning riled cheers. Charles hadn’t even noticed them but felt a little more relaxed for some reason until he felt Christi shuffle in her seat next to him. He raised a brow. “Everything alright?” He whispered. She gave him a side glance and nodded wordlessly.

The Emperor of Greece threw open his arms and the crowd went quiet again.  
“For decades our humble countries have been allies. States, trading partners. And now, something more. Brothers.” He announced, earning hushed whispers and a confused audience.  
Charles, however, knew what this meant, knew exactly why any of them were here tonight and he almost was happy about it.  
But when Christi stood and shuffled to the old royals, head hung low and fingers fidgeting in nervousness, he felt that something was off. Was this newfound feeling somehow wrong and misinterpreted? But it felt so nice, how could it be bad?  
The Greek Emperor continued.  
“Tonight this match will be held in honor of our daughter, Princess Christi.”  
The Roman Emperor stood tall and pulled Link forward for the crowd to see better before making his own announcement.  
“And my son, Charles Lincoln Neal III!”  
The two lords smiled and raised the left hand of their offspring.  
“Your future rulers!”  
Charles soaked in the ground trembling sounds of the crowd’s cheering. He knew this day was coming and he had many years to get used to that fact, but when he looked over at Christi and noticed her downcast eyes and deep frown he realized that she had not been given that luxury.  
In its own way his shred of happiness felt like a damnable sin and he wanted nothing more than to announce that this was just a joke.  
But he kept quiet and waited for his arm to be released from his father’s grasp.

He drowned out most of his father’s announcements until finally he heard the name that made his guy wrench and his mind writhe in pain. “Please give a cheer for our very own, RHETT MCLAUGHLIN!”  
Ugh! On top of watching his bride whither slowly like a dehydrating flower beside him now he had to watch an entire match starring that douche.  
His only hope for relaxation now was the looming fate that awaited the Gladiator.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot to ( bonesinwaiting ) for your very positive feedback! I’m so glad you like the story and sure do hope you, as well as many others, continue to enjoy it!

Rhett could hardly hear anything over the extatic cheers and ground-shaking trampling of the crowds above his quarters. It was times like these when he wished that the Gladiators’ quarters were all-together separate from the Colosseum rather than directly under its dozens of bleachers. He sat in his room alone on the bed, the door ajar as he tightened the strap of his leather bound nickel-plated breast plate that stopped just short of his pecks as to only serve the purpose of shielding his heart. He flexed his left arm to adjust the straps and intricate laces binding his bulging muscles beneath three miniature shields that protected the vital points of that arm. After adjusting and lacing and strapping his top armor pieces flush against his body, he stood and tightened the hip straps of his Gladiatorial kilt (which also bore nickel plates beneath it’s fine leather). The armor was pitch black to better camouflage himself in the shadows of the arena, but he knew that tonight it would be of no help. Even if he wanted to stalk in the shadows as he normally did with his opponents, he knew that the General had a trained eye that would spot him as if he were in daylight.  
By this point, even before he was announced, all Rhett felt like doing was going out and letting the Greek soldier slice him. At least then they would be done with this.

He strode silently from his room and approached the weapons rack where every sword, whip, and mase stood proudly polished and orginized. Dan and Arin had been in a corner vigorously scrubbing at a speck of dirt on the mirrored blade of a long sword. “What the HELL? Why is this so hard to get off?!” Arin scolded and began scrubbing harder, but Dan simply giggled to himself like a child.  
“That’s what she said!” He blurted, causing Arin to punch his shoulder but it only made Dan laugh harder.  
Rhett rolled his eyes and approached behind the two. “I’m guessing that’s my sword?” He asked coldly. The two men jumped at his sudden appearance and scrambled to their feet quickly before holding out Rhett’s newly polished weapon. He took it slowly and carefully swung it a few practice times, breaking it and the armor in simultaneously.

Now that he was closer to the mouth of the arena entrance he could hear a little better the sound of the Emperor’s voice. He had just realized that the crowd had stopped their bellows and howls and all had been silent for a few good seconds.  
The Greek Emperor had been introduced and was going on a tangent about Greece and Rome’s alliance until he finally got to the part that Rhet has dreaded to hear all day.

“Tonight, this match will be in honor of our daughter, Princess Christi...”

“And my son, Charles Lincoln Neal III!” His Emperor cut in.  
Just a little more to go. Rhett thumbed the sharp tip of his long sword and slowly closed his eyes...

“Your future rulers!” The Emperors announced together, ringing in the sounds of the crowd’s wild pounding and cheering. There... it’s was said therefore it was done.  
Rhett could feel his breast plate tighten as he began to pant heavily. Much good it did to protect his heart from blades, but how could he have protected himself from a pain such as this?  
Hot anger coursed through his veins, the pounding in the walls around him fueled his heart rate and everything seemed drowned out except for the two words that mattered in that moment.  
“RHETT MCLAUGHLIN!”  
When he opened his eyes next he was bursting through the entrance gate of the arena and looking around wild eyed. The crowd chanted his name and when he looked up the the Emperor’s watch box he could see the royals in their little line, with Charles and Christi front and center.  
To all the gods she was just as beautiful as he remembered her. Even more so with tagged on age. Her golden hair pinned atop her head, her pale skin glistening in the light of the torches, and her beautiful emerald eyes gazing sadly down at him....  
Wait...  
Sadly?

Rhett felt his heart wrench and tears pricked the edges of his eyes. He hadn’t noticed anything around him anymore, he only focused on Christi and the very real possibilities that she...  
Was now standing wide-eyed and gripping the edge of the box. “RHETT!!” She screamed with the voice of an Angel. It was so intoxicating to his mind that he almost didn’t notice the rapidly spreading pain in his exposed side.  
Almost.  
Those tears fogged his vision as he slowly gazed down to take in the sight of a sharpened sword lodged into his ribs. He looked forward then and finally met the general. A shorter man with a short black beard and deep drown eyes that bore into Rhett’s Now thick grey ones. The guy flashed a small smile as he retracted his sword, leaving a large gash between two of Rhett’s ribs and causing him to bleed buckets onto the sand. The crowd was silent as they watched Rhett stand motionless. This wasn’t good. Could he really just give up now?  
That would be easy now wouldn’t it? He could then retreat and not have to face Christi with his shame.  
He gazed back up to the box and saw Christi and the two Emperors and Emperess. But where had Charles gone? Was it the wound? Maybe the blood?  
Ugh... why did he care? Rhett saw Christi’s face full of worry and shock. What a sight, and to think he caused that reaction from her.

With a slow deep breath Rhett rolled his shoulders a few times, spun his sword in his hand to grip the hilt tight, and swung towards the stunned General. He had managed to slice the man’s shoulder, which was good enough for him. The General growled and held his small wound as he watched Rhett shrink in height.  
No, he wasn’t shrinking. He was kneeling. His gash sputtered more blood onto the hot sand and soaked his knees and made a full puddle for him to collapse unconsciously into. It was warm against his skin and only slightly itchy in his beard. When he felt his fingers slowly release the long sword onto the ground beside him he could feel the rumble of the crowd around him and even under him deep in the planet. They were chanting, but he couldn’t make it out.  
What were they saying?  
God he wished he knew, but he could always find out later. As of this very moment he desperately chased the sleep he’d longed for all that day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop! I’m back! Sorry guys, school and writer’s block kicks my ass a lot. But I’m here again with another chapter for you guys to hopefully enjoy~!

Charles practically sprinted down the long halls of the Colosseum while clawing at his heavy white robes and wrapping them around his waist. His torso bore a thin blue linen cloth of a shirt that was so tight against his tanned skin that it could’ve been mistaken for being painted on. His brow dripped with sweat from the stuffy air of the stadium and the heat from the torches, and his lungs were at a constant loss for air no matter how many breaths he attempted to capture in them. His heart pounded so hard that it made him dizzy and only when he stormed out of the monumental structure into the heady open world did his vision clear up.  
The relentless, chilled night time air thrashed against his body to cool him down and force air back into his being. His heart slowed down but he could still hear it in his ears, loud and intrusive and nagging alongside the bundles of random thoughts that suddenly invaded his mind. No one seemed to notice (or care) that he had rushed out of the watch box, not that he cared in the slightest, but he himself wasn’t even sure WHY he left. Perhaps it was just the heat being emitted from the close bodied crowds, or even the sudden gush blood that stained the sand beneath the two warriors. It could’ve been anything! But something in the back of his mind dared tread on a whole new territory of questions that since this morning he’d discovered and been deathly terrified of.  
Maybe it wasn’t all the people but just one person.  
Charles slowly ran his shaky fingers through his salt and pepper hair as he gulped and cautiously peeked at these new born wonders from a distance; He could invision it all over again.

He was sitting in the box silently, sparing a few glances over at Christi. She was so beautiful and yet that sad expression made his heart wrench by god! His heart fluttered softly as he foolishly emerged himself in the fact that maybe he had finally found someone to stand with him, that he could finally abandon the somewhat horrifying thought of ruling The Roman Empire alone. Of course the circumstances weren’t ideal, but she had to at least feel towards him the same way right? Just a little bit?  
Beyond her, he hadn’t been paying attention to anything else until he heard the crowd begin to billow and holler once again. With a long roll of his eyes he leaned over the edge to be greeted by the sight of that Gladiator Mclaughin, only this wasn’t the man he’d met in the courtyard of the palace earlier that day.  
Not the murderer/peasant man in dirtied off white robes with a farmer’s disgusting dirt stained beard.  
No, this man was feral. A panting, grunting, wild eyed brute of a beast. When he took in this sight, Charles felt as if he needed to suddenly swallow past the lump in his throat but when he did, however, the man’s eyes instantly glared up at the box and bore into Charles’s soul.  
Then... everything began to go fuzzy. When McLaughin looked at him like that, even if it were for just a moment before he turned his attention elsewhere, for some reason... that’s when his heart rate became a problem.

Charles caught his breath and he crash landed back to reality and shook his head quickly.  
“Ugh! No way... no FRICKIN way!” He growled and began to pace around.  
This meant nothing. He always tended to otherthink things, and this flashback was just another victim. SURE, he could detail it all. The look the Gladiator shot him with those raging grey hues, the way his own heart skipped and jumped to his throat, the taste of his instantly dry tongue... But It Meant Nothing!  
If he dared to even chance that his suddenly strange behavior symbolized anything other than the simple over detailing of an avid reader and story writer, then who knows what would happen to him? His father loved jumping to conclusions and this particular stumble of frantic thoughts could ruin his future of becoming Emperor.  
It was best to just sweep the thoughts away and most likely never touch on them again.

He sighed heavily on a shaky breath and slowed his pacing to a stop before he leaned against the cold outer travertine wall of the monument. This was all completely and utterly deniable, even if someone were to read his random emotions and figure out the cause of his odd behavior (which obviously was not an ability capable of being handled mere men). Yes, this was deniable, and when Charles spotted his father hastily turning a corner in search of him the most simple philosophy in the world crossed his mind.  
Nobody needs to know.  
“Charles!” The Emperor crooned heartily and gripped his son’s shoulders tightly, shaking him a bit in a fit of laughter.  
“The match went perfectly! I KNEW we could count on that boy!” He cheered and even jumped a little. Charles, however, simply nodded and carefully pulled away from his father’s grip to replace his robes on his shoulders. “I saw just before I left.” He stated, causing the Emperor to raise a brow. “That’s right! How are you feeling? Was it the blood?” He spoke with copious amounts of feigned concern and an all too familiar stern tone that made Charles shudder a bit.  
“Yes, sir. I just needed some air...” he half lied and fixed his hair. The Emperor hummed and arched a white brow higher before shrugging. “Okay then.” He nodded and turned on his heel to leave.  
Charles felt relief wash over him as he remembered that they were going to return to the palace after the match had finished. Of course the feast was still happening in honor of the Greek General’s victory and the betrothal of Christy and Charles, but he had been to many a Royals feast and understood first-hand just how quiet and peaceful they were.  
With luck, both the Emperors, the General, and the Empress would get shit-faced and Charles could slip away into the night with Christy. He was sure she had never stepped foot in Rome once in her life, so who better the show her the city other than the Prince of it all?  
Hey, he was feeling better already.  
What was he stressing out about earlier?

He followed the Emperor closely, a wide smile painted across his face, until he was suddenly stopped by the back of the Emperor’s slapping against his chest with a dull THUD.  
“Oooooh, that’s right!” He snapped his fingers and turned to his son.  
“Before you return to the palace, I shall give you your first official duty as future ruler.” He spoke proudly with a puffed up chest, almost as if he were rewarding himself for something. Charles, however, groaned softly and haunched his shoulders a bit.  
“Fine. What is it?” He grumbled.  
The Emperor smiled and pointed to the Colosseum.  
“One important role of being an Emperor is being a general amongst your soldiers. Therefore, you will go into the Gladiator’s quarters and nurse that fine warrior to health. Or, at least until he can walk without toppling to his knees.”  
Charles listened carefully to his father’s orders but, for some reason, felt on the verge of malfunctioning. The crippling anxiety, the flashbacks of recent moments past, his so simple yet short lived philosophy... ALL thrown out of a nearby window into a deep, dark ocean. He gulped and in his mind, began to rant and rave about the situation. On the surface, however, he simply stood slack jawed and awkward.  
The Emperor smiled and turned once more, and with one last order,  
“When he’s well, bring him to the palace.”  
He was gone.  
Leaving Charles to grumble and reluctantly drag his feet back into the monument and towards the interior entrance of the Gladiator’s quarters. It reeked of death to him, but then again... they were all bloodthirsty barbarians.  
With this thought, he slumped and rested his forehead against the strangely cooled wooden door.  
He would be lucky to make it out alive.


	8. Chapter 8

Rhett lay silently on his cot, careful not to move too much as to irritate his open wound. Very few gladiators could afford to pay a nurse to heal them, and Rhett was not one of those few. He was lucky that Danny knew how to clean and sew gashes and that he was even willing to help him after how he’d treated him earlier that day.  
Danny lit a small lantern in the corner of the room then knelt next to Rhett’s cot with a small bowl of water and a cloth, his large flouncy hair pulled back in a pony tail so he could see properly. “Hold still, this is gonna sting.” He warned quietly and began to dab at the wound with the wet cloth. Rhett winced and his muscles tensed as the water entered his wound to clean it out completely, only the water didn’t feel like water. Rather, it burned a bit at took him by surprise.  
“Wh-what is that..?” He asked with a shaky whisper. Danny smiled and continued to dab the wound. “It’s a mixture of Aloe, to clean the wound, and Rhubarb, to prevent any internal disorders. It burns, but that just means it’s working.”

“It’s like hellfire...” Rhett grumbled as he stared up at his ceiling. After a few minutes he began to grow numb to the stinging feeling in his ribs and finally allowed his mind to wander elsewhere. He carded through his recent memories to find one to linger on, but he realized that each one burned more than the medicine. The shit eating grin of the Greek General, Christy’s horrified and depressed expression, that damn prince who left the watch box. What asshole would even dare leave Christy there like that? Alone to watch a show of blood by herself. That brat probably thinks he’s too good for her just like everyone else who’s beneath him.  
Rhett’s fingers twitched and balled slowly into fists as he began to imagine running his sword through that Prince.  
The way that snowy raven hair would drip with nervous sweat and cling to the boy’s lean, pale face. His icey blue hues wide with shock and pain and those plump little lips parted as if to protest against the blade’s intrusion, yet nothing would be said. The only sounds between them would be the sound of crimson blood dripping to the floor.  
Rhett hadn’t realized that he’d closed his eyes, but when he opened them again he was met with a sight that made him want to lash out.  
Danny had been the one cleaning the wound before Rhett had slipped into his bloody fantasy but now that he had snapped out of it, its seemed that Danny had been replaced by a brat prince who was ringing out the cloth into the bowl.  
Rhett snarled and began sitting up.  
“What the HELL are you doing here?” He growled and was almost completely upright when suddenly he was pushed back down by a firm and on his chest. The prince’s hand that seemed to leave a lingering burning sensation on Rhett’s skin. “Stay down.” The prince ordered with a kitten’s level of threat in his tone. “You’ll bleed more if you move like that.”

Rhett listened and reluctantly stayed on his back. Ugh, what a disgusting feeling to be taking orders from this guy.  
Heavy silence fell over the both of them before the prince began to clean the dried blood from Rhett’s skin. Neither made any effort to strike up a conversation.

———————————————————

Charles finally worked up enough courage to enter the chambers beyond the wooden door. Two long halls held heavy oak doors left and right but only one door had someone in front of it holding cloth scraps and a large book. He raised a dark brow and made his way to the individual, recognizing them as a shorter, tubbier man thumbing through the pages of a medical novel. “Excuse me.” Charles spoke up, making the man jump and bow in his presence. “P-Prince Charles Lincoln Neal III! What brings you here?” The man nearly dropped the book in his frantic gesture and Charles rolled his eyes. “You may stand.” He ordered. When the man was standing tall once again Charles crosses his arms and nodded to the door behind him.  
“I’m here to see McLaughlin. Is he in there?” He inquired. To that, the man’s eyes widened and he visibly gulped. “Y-Yes your highness... b-but Dan is tending to his wounds right now...”

“I’ll handle that part.” Was Charles’ final statement before he was side-stepping past the man and quietly entering the room. He was met by the dim orange glow of lantern light and the sight of a lengthy man knelt cot-side of a seemingly sleeping gladiator. The long man turned his head to Charles and his eyes went wide. “P-prince..!” He stuttered quietly and began to scramble to his feet but Charles swiftly stopped him by placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The two held eye contact for no more than three seconds before Charles was holding out his hand to receive the wet cloth that the man had been using to clean McLaughlin’s wound. He instantly handed it over then quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Charles took a deep breath and quietly sighed as he looked down at McLaughlin. The beast had it’s eyes closed, but was it really asleep? A slight jolt of fear shot through his body causing his hands to tremble before he had gotten onto his knees to inspect the wound. The lantern’s light danced across the larger man’s toned muscles and slightly tanned skin. Every dip and curve of a hardened ab and flexing bicep was blanketed in thick shadow that made the body before him seem like a vast desert. A certain heat rose from his chest to his neck and ended at his cheeks as he subconsciously moved his hand towards the beast. Featherlight fingertips grazed across the flat plains of the being’s broad chest and slowly danced their way down the muscular arm closest to him, exploring each careful dip.  
Charles took mental note of the proportions he examined and silently relished in every reaction he was able to illicit from the sleeping man. Each time his fingers circled on the skin, McLaughlin shivered and every time Charles charted a new curvature on the lean body McLaughlin released a tiny groan. The prince’s head began to swim as he started to loose himself.  
What had he been freaking out about earlier? It had something to do with this barbarian... but whatever it was, this moment was overshadowing it a hundred times over.

The sudden motion of the brute balling his hands into tight fists was all it took to scare Charles back into reality and turn to the bowl as if nothing had happened. He silently cursed himself as he dipped the rag into the bowl and began ringing it out.  
The room wasn’t silent for very long, however. “What the HELL are you doing here?” McLaughlin growled.  
Charles turned to see the beast sitting upright, straining the wound and causing more blood to trickle down to his hips. He panicked and suddenly placed his open palm on the man’s chest, pushed him back onto his back and sighed. “Stay down. You’ll bleed more if you move like that.” His warned with a child-like tone. The man glared at him but he felt him relax beneath his palm and he slowly took his hand back. Charles gulped and tentatively cleaned the fresh blood from around the wound, staying silent.  
Neither spoke a word to one another, but Charles could feel the Gladiator’s eyes bore into him as he hung his head low.  
“You’re quiet.” The man commented as if it were an insult. “I thought you would’ve come here to gloat.”  
Charles listened and felt himself hang his head lower. “I-I...” he whispered and slowly took his hand away from the wound. McLaughlin raised a sand colored brow. “You what?” He asked thickly. His tone mad Charles tremble and the prince opened his mouth to continue speaking when suddenly his wrist was being grabbed and he was being forced closer to the now seething beast.

“Say it!” McLaughlin growled in the prince’s face, making the boy squeak and try to pull away. “U-Unhand me..!” He ordered and thrashed violently. He managed to break away and quickly jumped to his feet, turning towards the door to leave but he was pinned in place by two large and heavy hands on his hips.  
The hands felt like they could nearly fit around his entire waist and it made him instantly blush.  
Wait.... This was not the time to be having strange thoughts! This was the time to panic! He tried to dash towards the door but before he could even take one step, he was being pulled back and thrown onto his back on the cot. His robes unhelpfully tangled him up as he tried to run again, but his slowness gave the beast the upper-hand and before he knew it he was being pinned beneath the large body he was admiring just minutes before, his wrists being held in one large hand above his head.  
“Say. It.” Rhett growled and watched the boy struggle. The Prince might’ve shown signs of strength, but Rhett was far stronger and more experienced in combat. Charles would not break free any time soon, and the boy knew it too. But that didn’t keep him from thrashing. “N-not bragging or gloating about a-anything..!” He cried and arched his back in another failed attempt to wrench his arms free, turning his face away from Rhett and into his shoulder. The beast growled again and used his free hand to force Charles to look at him.  
“Bullshit.” He hissed. “You said it yourself, you love seeing people get what they deserve. That I’m just a killer in your eyes. You have no other reason to be here than to kick me while I’m down.”  
Charles looked up at the man with wide, terrified eyes and gulped, jaw aching from the vice grip the other had on it.  
“P-please... I’m telling the truth... I just came here to clean your wound...” he squeaked pathetically. He hated this feeling of being helpless, but if that were 100% true... then why was his heart racing? Of course, he could’ve swept that off as the terror racking through him, but in some part of his brain he knew that this feeling wasn’t fear. It was more like...

———————————————————

Rhett glowered down at his prey and felt almost like a lion attacking a frail gazelle. The brat prince’s wide eyes darted across the predator’s face wildly and his trembling pink lips slowly opened to speak again. Rhett figured that Charles would just spill more lies, but instead his ears picked up the faintest sound of a petrified whisper.  
“P-please don’t hurt me...” the prince panted heavily so those words nearly went undetected, but Rhett heard them and slowly made eye contact with those soft lips. They were plump, pink, and quivering in fear. But his cheeks betrayed the unspoken words of those lips. Charles might’ve been scared of Rhett, but his cheeks were about as pink as his lips. He was blushing like a child, and for some reason that pissed Rhett off even more.  
This brat had to be here to rub his loss in his face, it only made sense!  
He couldn’t have just forced himself to come here out of the kindness of his heart, assuming he had any.  
However, when Rhett thought about it then something clicked in his mind.  
His snarl flatlined, emerald eyes became half-lidded, and the hand on the brat prince’s jaw slowly released and traced five lines down his neck with its fingertips.  
“The Emperor sent you.” He whispered with 99.9% realization. But what was the other one percent?  
He wasn’t sure. And he didn’t dwell on that.  
He let up on using his weight to pin Charles but didn’t release his wrists from above his head.

———————————————————

Charles winced as his jaw was released, but not his arms. From all the weight that was let up on him he realized he could easily slip out from under the beast, but that realization only made him question himself as to why he didn’t move an inch.  
He continued to stare up at the gladiator who’s expression had softened from that of a predatory monster to simply one of annoyance.  
“The Emperor sent you.” He whispered, and Linked tensed up again. Should he nod? Would that piss off the man? He could just stay silent!  
Charles gulped and gently tugged his wrists, but the grip on them tightened. He wasn’t free yet so he bit his lip and lied.  
“I s-swear, I just wanted to help... I r-research medicine and treatments for wounds like yours. P-please let me go...” he whimpered that last part and bit his lower lip hard. He noticed the larger man’s pursed lips twitch a bit before his hand began to loosen. He waited until the hand had finally been removed and slowly brought his arms down to his sides. He still didn’t move, though, because Rhett still hand one hand lightly stroking his neck. Charles trembled and when he felt the fingertips trail up to trace his jawline, he rested his head back against the cot. “I don’t believe you for a second.” Rhett huffed before taking his hand away from the prince. “But if you do know what your doing...”

Charles gulped and nodded fast, sitting up slowly and carefully slipping out from under the man. “I do, honest!” And with that said, he got back onto his knees next to the cot and carefully guided Rhett onto his back once again.  
The room fell silent again as if nothing happened and after a good 10 minutes the gladiator was cleaned and sewed up.  
Charles was still blushing, however, and his heart continued to race as he helped lead the man from his room and to the palace where their arrival was being awaited. He was right to an extent about the gladiator.  
He was a terrifying, blood thirsty beast of a brute.  
Why did that seem to end up draw him closer?


	9. Chapter 9

The streets of Rome sat in silence, but every house was alight and bustling with families and friends. Some of the houses had closed window shutters but others were open wide for anyone to gaze through. And Charles did so eagerly. Each time he and Rhett passed a warm home where lantern light spilled from the windows into the street like a golden waterfall he couldn’t help but crane his neck to gaze inside the one story building. He would see women, men, and children all together singing or telling stories hand-in-hand. It melted his heart but also caused it to ache a little bit. He’d never come to know or even meet that happy family glow. He was born in the palace and was since raised to be totally independent so that one day when he became the Emperor he would need for no one. Of course this was a sure-fire method to convincing a younger and more naive Charles that all lives aside from his own were expendable, and he’d be lying if he were to tell anyone that he’d completely abandoned that mindset.  
Not that he’d ever fully accept that he still felt that way in the deepest pit of his being.

As they passed the last laughter filled home, Charles hadn’t noticed Rhett staring down at him curiously until he accidentally made eye contact with him. “What’s wrong with you?” The Gladiator asked condescendingly, making the prince turn his head forward with a huff. “None of your business.” He sighed.

“You were staring pretty hard at those families.” The man commented and looked forward as well as they began to ascend the hill to the palace, keeping himself as close to the rock wall as possible. Charles hadn’t noticed him getting closer to the wall, instead he was turning his nose up and set completely from Rhett’s view. “And so what? It’s my duty to watch over my people, isn’t it?” He spoke proudly. He was the prince of the Roman Empire and he knew his duties as such. He held his head high and crossed his arms across his chest, but his demeanor was suddenly dented when Rhett scoffed and gripped his shoulder. Charles turned to glare at the hand but continued to walk through the front courtyard towards the palace despite its presence.  
“Actually, boy,” Rhett started with a harsh tone and a bullying grin, grip becoming slightly tighter on the prince’s shoulder. “You’re duty is to sit back, look pretty, and act like you know what the hell you’re doing.”  
At that, Charles’s jaw clenched tight. They had made it to the entrance of the palace, but before they went inside Charles forced the Gladiator’s back against a tall white pillar in the shadows. His hands gripped onto Rhett’s biceps tightly and this time his heart didn’t race. Instead he felt a surge of some sort of dominance.  
Piercing blue eyes bore into emerald ones as the prince snarled up at the still smirking gladiator.  
“How dare you speak to me that way. I may just be a prince, but never the less my blood is higher than yours.” He growled lowly. “I am Prince Charles Lincoln Neal III, future Emperor of the great Roman Empire, and I will not be treated like some kind of lowly brat by anyone. Especially a damned low-life killer like you.”

Now Charles’s heart pounded violently against his rib cage, his fingers gripping the strong arms of the larger man tighter. His eyes only wavered from the other’s for a moment, that moment being when the gladiator swiftly brought one large hand up to cup the angered prince’s jaw and pull him close so their bodies held no gap between them. Charles shuddered but made no effort to run away as Rhett slowly leaned down to his ear, beard brushing gently against his cheek and making him shudder more from the strange ticklish feeling.  
Rhett’s lips were surprisingly soft against his ear in contrast to his damp predatory breath and his rough fingers which continued to grip Charles’s jaw tighter with each second that rolled by.  
“You’d best be careful about who you’re speaking to, boy.” He growled quietly, making Charles hold his breath.  
“You might be a prince, but don’t forget that you’re still only that. You hold no real authority over anyone in this Empire, especially me.”  
Rhett continued to draw a slowly melting Charles closer to his body by his neck and now also with a firm hand on the prince’s hip.

Poor Charles could feel his random surge of dominance diminish into nothing but an unfurling knot of nerves in his stomach. Each bruising touch from the beastly man sent a live wire of submission jolting from his fingertips to that knot and his throat. He bit his lip hard for fear of his mouth opening and something spilling from him that he did not want to say.  
“You saw my blood tonight. Tell me, did you think of me as just a filthy barbarian then too?” Rhett huffed and finally began to dig his nails into the hip he had a hold of. Even through the fabrics he wore, Charles could still feel the pinch of skin breaking beneath the man’s nails.  
“I wonder if yours looks any different? Seeing as it’s so high and godly.”  
The nails dug in harder and Charles let out a weak squeak before tossing his arms up around Rhett’s sturdy neck.

“I h..hate you...” he growled in the man’s ear in return for his inflictions on his body.  
After that, however, everything became a dark, filthy, beautiful blur.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RATED R:
> 
> Depictions of blood & harsh language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SSSSOOOOO much for the loving comments on this work guys! I try to stay consistent but I’m glad you stick around for it~!
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS TO  
> @kesha

Rhett held the brat prince in his bruising grip, unrelenting as he dug his nails into the delicate flesh beneath those white robes. Oh, how beautiful it would be to see even a drop of that self-proclaimed high and mighty blood soak through to the surface of the white cloth.  
However, when the prince suddenly locked his slender (yet muscular) arms around his neck and yanked him further down to whisper those three little words in his ear, “I... hate you”, he at that moment felt the sudden urge to spill more than a tiny drop of blood from the boy.  
He wanted to see him release a waterfall of ruby colored droplets and watch as they defined every line on his body from his neck to his ankles and he wanted to be the one to cause it.

He gripped Charles tighter and suddenly yanked him further into the darkness of the palace’s wide, long shadows by his hips then tossed him carelessly into one of the innocent by-standing flowerbeds that had obviously been recently tended to by the Emperor’s maidens.

———————————————————

Charles did little to prevent his fall and instead simply gazed up hazily at Rhett through thick black lashes once he landed on his back. The flowers he was tossed into were thorned and gleamed with dew drops from the slightly humid night. His tanned ivory skin was delicately brushed by the vibrant purple petals of the flowers but it was also pierced by each of the miniature thorns. With each movement he made, no matter how little, the thorns pierced and scratched with the accomplished attempt to draw blood. “Nng...” Charles groaned softly as he attempted to move his arms to sit up but more thorns snagged the back of his hand and left three long scratches that welled up pink and began to trickle small droplets of crimson blood. He bit his lip and continued to lock eye contact with the barbarian who simply glared at him. His bright emerald eyes shone through the shadows and although he towered over the man to flaunt dominance, the prince could tell that he was visibly shaken by the sight before him.

———————————————————

Rhett’s hands trembled and he had never been more glad to be blanketed by the near pitch black shadows. The brat prince before him looked so sinfully divine. White silk robes draping and flowing from the edges of the lean frame, carved hips just slightly exposed beneath the rucked up violet shirt, and thin rivers of blood tracing his delicate physique and dripping onto the bed of flowers that made him look like a hand-made delicacy from the gods above.  
Those ice blue eyes pierced through the night behind their shield of lashes and bore into Rhett as if they knew all about his inner thoughts and workings. This man was downright beautiful, just as pure and innocent seeming as he was earlier that morning. Before he opened those plump lips and spewed his insults.  
From that very moment on it seemed as though those lips were used for that one purpose.  
To talk shit.  
But now they were sealed, and for some reason that made Rhett’s desire to bully the boy pool low in his groin.

“What’s the matter little boy?” He growled and licked his upper lip with a pointed tongue before slowly sinking to his knees.

———————————————————

Charles gulped and slowly tried to scoot away from him as he drew closer, but he placed his palm down hard into a thorn patch and fell flat onto his back again with a yelp. He bit his lip in pain and raised his hand to gaze at the torn, bleeding skin.  
“Ow...” he managed to whimper under his breath, but was distracted by to next high dosage of fear shooting through his veins when the gladiator grabbed his wrist to pull him into sitting position.

———————————————————

Rhett stayed on his knees and watched calmly as the man grabbed onto a thorn brush. He seemed shocked but also on the verge of weeping. Fascinating how such a simple thing like thorns could bring a prince to tears. He rolled his eyes and suddenly snatched the boy’s wrist to pull him up from the flowers. Now he was scared, those icey hues darting every which way in search of quick answers to Rhett’s next moves. But he gave him none and did as he pleased.  
Slowly bringing the bloody palm in front of his face, Rhett’s tongue started out to have a taste of the royal fluid.  
Charles trembled beneath him and bit his lip harder.  
Rhett coated his tongue in the sweet nectar and growled ferociously, hungrily, before bringing the palm flush against his mouth to lick and suckle the wounds clean.

———————————————————

Charles couldn’t help but arch forward into the gladiator’s larger body as his hand has forced into total contact against the sand color beard and gentle lips beneath. Each flattened stroke of the brute’s tongue against the open wounds made Charles’s body quiver and his hips roll upwards into the air. He was quickly loosing himself to the pleasures this man offered. Almost as if he were the devil himself.  
Before he knew it, his body betrayed him and he raised his other hand to stroke his fingers through the thick beard while his lips parted in a high-pitched exhale.  
“Y-you... beast..!” He whimpered in a last attempt at defiance.

———————————————————

Rhett growled and crawled closer to his writhing prey, straddling his hips to pin him in place. He felt like a starving lion as he continued to lick, nibble, and suckle the wounded palm. It want until Charles squeaked so cutely did he release him, moving his hands back down to dig his fingers into him just beneath his ribs.  
“Your taste is one for a sinful siren. But your scent...” He hummed lowly as he gently buried his face into the crook of the boy’s neck and breathed in deeply. Charles trembled again and gripped onto Rhett’s shoulders. “You smell as innocent as a saint.” He growled and lifted his gaze to Charles’.  
“Are you a virgin, boy?”

———————————————————

Rhett’s every move drove Charles wild, each carefully chosen word making him succumb to his whim, but when that accusation was made he tensed up. Why should he say anything?  
The man would just laugh at him, or worse...  
His mind screamed for him to be defiant, but his body was far too compliant at this point. So instead of words, he simply began to try wriggle out from under the man.  
He didn’t make it far, however, before the gladiator was collecting his wrists in one large hand like earlier and pinning them above his head, forcing the backs of his hands down onto another horn brush and tearing into his flesh.  
“U-Unhand me!” He cried and continued to writhe. “H-Hurts... it hurts..!”  
His cries became minor squeaks as the beast above him pressed his other hand against his mouth to quiet him down.  
The gladiator’s eyes twinkled, his grin grew wider, and the thorns dug harder into his wrists. It all hurt, every aspect of it, and he hadn’t realized until the beast was prying his hand away from his mouth that he’d bit him in retaliation. He could taste blood and copper on his tongue and noticed that the gladiator was now bleeding as well. It made him swell with a sense of pride knowing that he’d gotten him back.

———————————————————

Rhett jolted and pulled his hand away from the boy to inspect what had just happened. The fucking brat bit him!  
His heart pounded with anger, but when he looked down to see the boy’s defiant glare he was instantly calmed. His faltering grin grew and he slowly leaned down to lick a broad stripe from the boy’s prominent Addams Apple all the way up to circle and dip into the shell of his ear.  
“You’re no prince.”  
He growled and splayed his free hand wide against the brat’s chest to keep him down as he tossed his head in every direction that allowed him a chance to move away from Rhett.  
He finally gave up his struggles, though, when Rhett snatched his earlobe between his canines and yanked.  
“You’re just a weak bitch in need of harsh training and punishment.”  
He finished and released the lobe to sit up and gaze down at his prey.

———————————————————

Charles whimpered when the brute called him that but it seemed to come out as more of a needy moan.  
“N-not...” he mumbled and flinched when Rhett nuzzled up under his neck.  
“Not what? A needy little fuck toy?” His insults struck Charles like venom and made him whimper and his heart ache.  
“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re not a bratty virgin. You’re so compliant right now.”

“S-stop...”

“I bet every Emperor who’s gone into the palace has had a full tour of your expensive sheets. Hell, you could turn a Priest into a fiend with this tight little body.”

“I’ve n-never done it..!” Charles finally broke, tears beginning to stream down his face.  
The accusations and name calling hurt, but not as badly as the fact that he was actually enjoying it and would beg for more. So long as it was Rhett who was doing it.  
The gladiator growled and grasped his chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Those emerald hues burned like fire into Charles’s soul like an invisible branding iron. There was no hint of remorse for his actions or words, just the slight movement of his hand around Charle’s wrists to ease up on the pressure.  
The prince gazed up at him, lashes soaked with tears, and trembled as he slowly lowered himself to nuzzle his cheek, almost in apology.

“.... we can fix that easily.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes at end for definitions of words with *

They all sat in silence around the mensa*.  
Charles.  
Rhett.  
Christi.  
The Emperor.  
The Greek General.  
The Greek rulers.  
The only sounds filling the room were the melodies from the musical instruments played by the finest male musicians.  
The seductive notes which streamed from the Aulos* filled Charles’s senses as it was his favorite instrument to not only listen to, but to also play in secret.  
He sat between both the Goddess Christi and the beastly Rhett, and couldn’t help but constantly pull the sleeves of his robe down over his cut up arms and wrists.  
Thank goodness Christi didn’t seem to notice. As for Rhett... well he hardly payed any attention to him.

It was strange, though, how they so suddenly ended up inside the palace with everyone else when just literal minutes earlier they had been exchanging dangerous four play in the garden.  
But he was also grateful.  
If that maiden hadn’t come out to fetch them, who knows what that damned barbarian would’ve done to him?

When the song finally ended, another bouncy one began just as quickly with the Cornu* leading it with a steady B flat.  
Apparently the Emperor had figured that the silence had been held long enough, seeing as how he gently slapped the round tabletop. “SO!” He started loudly, making both Charles and Christi flinch.  
“What Of The Gustatio*?” He asked the foreign rulers who nodded with humble smiles.  
“Oh, absolutely divine!” The Empress exclaimed. “To be completely honest, I do get rather weary of seafood.”

“You say that, but then you refuse to eat anything else.” The Greek Emperor added with a chuckle.  
The lady shot him a glare.  
“How dare you! What of when you sent your men to Persia and they returned with those lovely bits of seasoned Steer?”

“Mother, Father, please.” Christi chimed in quietly.  
Charles gulped and blushed softly at her shyness.  
She was so modest for a Princess.  
Lovely and kind.  
How he would give to only be with her in this moment.

——————————————————— 

The entire time they sat there, Rhett and the Greek General where in a strong gazing competition.  
The General stole no more that two glances at Rhett’s wound which was still visible beneath his borrowed robes from one of the palace maidens.  
When the foreign rulers began to bicker, he took his opportunity to lean forward with his elbows on the tabletop.  
“Is there a problem General?”  
He snarled.  
The General huffed and leaned forward as well.  
”Just admiring my handy work. I got you pretty damn good.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I nicked you as well.”

“You didn’t immobilize me.”

Rhett growled lowly at that.  
“Maybe I can fix that right now.”

“Boys!”  
The Emperor scolded softly, making the two warriors gaze at him.  
“Play nice.” He ordered.  
The two looked back at each other and huffed before leaning back in their spots.

As the maidens swooped in dove-like to replace the gustatio with the mensa prima* and return to each person with a tall chalice of wine, Rhett couldn’t help but glance over to Charles. The brat prince was no longer disheveled (much to Rhett’s dismay) and he wasn’t paying one ounce of attention to Rhett. His full attention was on Christi who would spare him a few glances as they spoke about politics or such.  
Rhett couldn’t help but scoff. The prince knew nothing of the Greek princess.  
Unlike Rhett.  
Even after all these years, no matter how much training, she was still that girl of the cliff.  
She HAD to be.  
Or else this would be really stupid.

With a glance around the mesa, he straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“Princess, if you would be so kind as to indulge me?” He spoke up so everyone could hear.  
Charles swiveled his head to Rhett so fast it was a surprise he didn’t snap his neck. Christi made eye contact with Rhett and grew visibly tense. “Y-Yes, gladiator. What is your inquiry.”  
She nearly whispered.  
Rhett took a deep breath at that word, GLADIATOR, and sipped his wine. “I seem to recall hearing somewhere that the Greek princess was fond of travel, but have you ever stepped foot beyond Greece until now?”  
Once he asked this, Christi sat taller.

“H-How DARE you..!” The General slammed his fist on the tabletop and began to stand, when Christi suddenly held her hand up to him.  
“General Chase, be still.” She ordered then looked back to Rhett. Charles had moved out from between them and now sat more behind them both.  
“No. This is my first time outside of Greece.”

Rhett gulped softly and set the Chalice down with a nod.  
“I see. And... this telling also mentioned that you were once promised to another. Is this true?”

Rhett knew what he was risking by asking this and the events happening next were rather expected.  
The world became white noise.  
Christi’s eyes widened and she looked around nervously, cheeks growing a dark red. When she looked back to him her beautiful baby blue hues glossed over with tears before she was standing and running off.  
Everything ran in slow motion around him as he watched her leave.

The General was standing and reaching to take up his sword against Rhett.

The Emperor was holding back drunken laughter.

Charles sat stunned.

The foreign rulers were holding back General Chase.

After what seemed like minutes, Rhett finally released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. When he did, however, he was on his feet and following Christi. Completely forgetting about the feast and the royals all-together.

———————————————————

Charles continued to sit dumbfounded as everything happened so fast.  
Rhett’s accusations, the explosive anger of the General, all of it left him slightly confused as it happened so fast.

“H-he won’t hurt her, will he..?” The Empress asked worriedly as she watched Rhett speed off in the same direction of the Princess. “I’M NOT WAITING TO FIND PUT YOUR HIGHNESS!” The General huffed and started off after him.  
Charles continued to watch the scene and slowly blinked.  
Though, when he opened his eyes, he was no longer sitting.  
No, at that moment he was standing toe-to-toe with the General.  
He gulped.

The General was fuming with anger for the Gladiator and seemed thirsty for blood.  
It made Charles absolutely terrified... but something in his gut... it was telling him that this was the right move.  
“I...I’ll follow them...”  
He announced as firmly as he could.  
Everyone watched him, but his cue to leave was the approving smile of the Empress.

Before he knew it, he was off and navigating the palace halls in search of a Beauty and a Beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN ANCIENT ROME, THE WEALTHY AND ROYAL WOULD HAVE FEASTS CONSISTING OF SEVEN MEALS THROUGHOUT THE DAY. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TERMS USED BY THE ROMANS THOUGH THIS MEAL IS BEING HELD AT NIGHT.
> 
> MENSA- A New Table Was Brought In For Each Course, so the term MENSA was used for both table and course.
> 
> AULOS- An Aulos or Tibia was an Ancient Greek Wind Instrument
> 
> CORNU- A Cornu or Corbin was an Ancient Roman Brass Instrument in the shape of a G.
> 
> GUSTATIO- During the Roman Republic, the main course had been preceded by starters, Gustatio, to awaken the tastebuds.
> 
> MENSA PRIMA- The Main Course.


	12. Chapter 12

It was hardly a task for Rhett to find Christi. Her Angelic weeping could be spotted easily in even the loudest of crowds. With one more turn, he had a perfect view of the darkened courtyard where the distraught Greek Princess sat on the marble edge of the fountain. Her hands were occupied by twisting a piece of her white silk dress continuously while she gazed into the water beneath her.  
Rhett quietly slinked from the shadows, but once his sandaled foot landed on the gravel yard Christi’s weeping ceased.

“It’s improper to spy on a lady.” She spoke harshly, though strained through tears.

Rhett flinched but held firm as he cautiously inched towards her.

“Some would also think it’s improper for a Princess to run from her problems in the way you did.”

At his words Christi’s back straightened and with it her head turned away further from Rhett. “You have no business prying into my personal affairs.”  
She spoke much more quietly now, but was still assertive.  
It made Rhett’s hair stand on end but didn’t slow him down.  
After a few more seconds of shuffling he stood before her.  
“Christi... look at me.”  
He spoke softly for her. He didn’t touch her for fear of her unpredictable reaction, but he was pleasantly surprised when the lovely girl slowly turned her head to him. They didn’t meet eyes, but that was alright with Rhett so long as he could now see her face.

———————————————————

In his haste down the halls, Charles had found himself soon out of breath. There were only so many places the two could have gone within the palace and yet they were not in any of them!  
He sighed and was nearly ready to give up his search, coming to terms with the more than likely false fact that they had returned to the banquet hall, until he turned the corner and walked out to the open air hall that led to the courtyard.  
His skeleton nearly leapt from his skin in shock when he saw the sight of the Barbarian speaking to the Princess who looked towards him but not at him.  
Now he couldn’t go back without either one, the other, or both of them... but rather than interrupting them, he delved swiftly into the shadows behind a large pillar structure and waited for them to be done with their conversation.

———————————————————

They sat in silence for few minutes longer before Rhett knelt down in front of her, the gravel burying in the skin of his knees but he hardly cared.  
“You’re just as stunning as the day we met.” He whispered.  
Christi turned her head. “Don’t...”

“Christi please stop turning away from me and talk to me.” Rhett pleaded and suddenly grasped her delicate hand in a knee-jerk reaction, making her turn her head quickly to glare at Rhett with tear filled eyes. Her pink lips quivered and her body trembled.... but she didn’t pull away from him.  
Instead she allowed herself to calm down and turn to him fully.  
“Rhett... there is nothing to talk about.” She insisted, but Rhett was unsatisfied.

“There is. Years, Christi, YEARS we’ve been apart. And we can’t even have a normal conversation? How have you been, what’s new in town, hear about that new play, NOTHING?”  
He pressed on, but Christi simply shook her head.  
“We both know that you aren’t interested in talking plays Rhett.”  
She whispered.  
Rhett gulped and shrugged with an agreeing nod.

———————————————————

Link trembled in the shadows, though he was not sure why.  
The day they met?  
Years?  
What did any of that mean? Had they known each other once upon a time?  
Well, it was known that Rhett wasn’t from Rome...  
He gulped and continued to listen.

———————————————————

Rhett slowly scooted closer to her as she gazed down at him. “Rhett...” she started, but the Gladiator held up his hand to stop her.  
She did.  
He gulped and gently placed a light kiss on the back of her hand before speaking.  
“At least tell me...” He requested.

“Tell you what?”

“... if you still remember that day on the cliff.” He met her gaze again, this time tears slowly building up in his own eyes. Christi began to tremble again before suddenly sniffling and turning her head away.  
“R...Rhett...” She whimpered softly.  
Rhett knew in his gut that this was all a bad idea, but he also knew that he at least had to know if she remembered.  
The cliff.  
The waves.  
The ring.  
The promise.  
All of it.  
Any of it.  
After a few more seconds of silence, Christi began to rummage in a hidden pocket in her dress. This confused him entirely but it was all made so abundantly clear when he saw what exactly she was looking for.  
Now in her hand, wrapped carefully in the beaten leather of a Bull, was the Opal ring.  
She dropped it into his upturned palm and he examined in with wide eyes.  
“....y..you do remember...” He exclaimed softly.  
She nodded softly, but then carefully closed his calloused fingers over the ring.  
He looked up to her quickly and opened his mouth to say something but now it was her turn to cut him off.  
She placed a gentle fingertip against his lips and slowly shook her head.

“Rhett... I can’t fulfill my promise.”


	13. Chapter 13

Charles was now peeking behind the pillar to watch the scene play out. He was still completely confused as to what the two were on about, but when he saw Christi give Rhett the small object and say those words to him then things began to look a little bit clearer.

———————————————————

Rhett’s eyes widened even more (somehow) and his heart instantly sank seemingly 30 feet.  
He started to shake his head and wanted to say something, ANYTHING, but it all came out as confused and incoherent babbling as the tears in his eyes slowly released.  
Christi sniffled again and quickly stood.  
“Oh, Rhett, Stop It!” She nearly yelled at him.  
“You had to have known that it would never happen?!”

Rhett flinched at her raised voice and started to quickly stand. “Christi...”

“STAY!” She ordered, pointing to the ground where Rhett suddenly felt chained. He gazed up to her, his eyes filled with tears and the sheen of betrayal. But Christi would not go without tearstained cheeks as well.  
She glared at him to the best of her abilities before taking one step back.

“I, Princess Christi Of Greece, have come to Rome to marry the Roman Emperor’s son, Prince Charles. This is my duty to my country and it’s peoples.”  
She announced and wiped her eyes of their wetness.  
“I will not be seen hand-in-hand with a Gladiator. No matter the relation.”  
She finalized her statement and finally took off back into the palace, leaving Rhett in his spot.  
Heartbroken and crying.

———————————————————

Charles was so in depth at this point that he hadn’t noticed that he had sunk to a crouching position.  
What a sad act, he thought though he still was unclear about what exactly the relationship was between the two.  
They were completely different so it couldn’t have been... they were lovers?

Christi stood tall, made her announcement, and took her dramatic leave very suddenly.  
Charles felt his mind want to go after her, but his body refused to move and instead he continued to watch the broken down Barbarian. He felt bad for him, but a larger portion of his body told him to be triumphant.  
This asshole had a thing for Christi but even she didn’t want to be with him.  
Why should Charles feel bad for the guy who cut him up earlier and called him names?  
His mind flashed back to that moment in the flowerbed where he was reduced to tears beneath Rhett but he had already suppressed how he’d felt about it.  
That was, until his mind swapped the image.

Rather than him beneath Rhett his mind put Christi there.  
Crying and writhing in nothing but pleasure under the Brute’s crushing power. Now THAT was a sight.  
A sight he instantly hated himself for.  
It forced a harsh chill up his spine as he thought about it and he shook his head to clear the image.  
He was filled with anger now... but why was something in his mind screaming at him that it wasn’t for the reasons he was thinking?

Charles wanted to be angry at Rhett for the image, so... why was he envious... and not at Rhett?

This wasn’t good.  
God DAMN one of the servants must have slipped something in his drink. Yes! That’s why he couldn’t get his thoughts together!  
The show was over, so now he had to leave as quickly and stealthily as possible.  
He stood quickly with the pillar to support his back and he started to sprint off in the shadows.  
He didn’t make it far, however. Maybe five steps until the tip of his sandal nicked the stone floor and sent him tumbling forward into the moonlight.

———————————————————

Rhett watched Christi disappear and, once he knew she was gone, finally broke down the rest of the way.  
He dropped the ring onto the gravel and stumbled into a sitting position, his back against the fountain.  
He wept harshly and covered his eyes with one hand.  
How foolish he felt. Christi was right, he should have known!  
Something like a ring was such a childish thing to look upon as a promise.  
13 years waited.  
13 years wasted.  
And then again, HE was brought into the picture. That fucking Prince.  
The thought of the boy just made Rhett’s aching heart simmer with rage, and what happened next helped not one bit.

As if late for his stage cue, Charles came flailing out of the shadows like a drunken Albatross.  
Rhett looked to the boy and felt something in him snap.  
He slowly rose to his feet and began his menacing stride towards him.  
The Prince shook his head and made eye contact with the advancing Beast, suddenly starting to crawl back into the shadows.  
“Oh no!” Rhett growled and grabbed on of the thin ankles, easily yanking the Prince back beneath his crouching form.

———————————————————

“L-LET ME GO..!” Charles squealed like a mouse in a trap and attempted to kick away from Rhett only to have both legs pinned with both of the large hands.  
But even without his legs he still tried to flail away. He knew he was in danger now, he just wasn’t sure if it was life threatening.  
And that, for some unknown reason, made the situation all the more horrific.  
He dug his nails into the floor but couldn’t find and way out of this and when he felt the warmth and heaviness of Rhett on his back he couldn’t help but begin to sob.

Warm breath now blanketed his neck while the feeling of a bristly beard tickled his skin. The Gladiator was so close and his anger practically radiated off of him as he growled in Charles’s ear.  
“You spying little weasel.” He accused.

Charles whimpered and tried to turn his head away.  
“N-NO, I s-swear! I was supposed to l-look for Ch-Christi..!”  
He attempted to explain himself, but it would seem he made the wrong move when one hand released his ankle and instead buried itself in his hair and pulled hard.  
Rhett growled louder, like a hungry lion, and dragged Charles to his feet by his hair.  
The Prince shines and tried to run but was quickly pulled close to the Brute so their bodies were flush together.  
He gazed up at Rhett in terror and waited for him to say something.

“.... she’s marrying you as her duty.”  
He recalled and chuckled softly, making Charles tremble.  
Their eyes met once again and this time, Rhett was grinning ear-to-ear.

“But you don’t deserve her.” He finished.

Charles gulped and winced as the death grip in his hair tightened.  
How... DARE this piece of human filth?!  
Where does he get off on making such a statement?  
The Prince growled back and grabbed Rhett’s wrist to try and pull the hand away.  
“An-and YOU think YOU do?! HA!” He spat and continued to tug.  
“She rejected you and humiliated you! You’re just a piss ant! A fucking murderer! And an Asshole! Now UNHAND ME!!!”

Charles could feel the anger coursing through his veins as he screamed and continued to beat at the unrelenting arm.  
It felt so good to do this, but his fun was cut short when Rhett forcefully yanked his head back and clasped his other hand over his mouth.  
Those burning Emerald eyes gazed at him for what felt like eons before anything else happened between them.

“.... I’ll show you what you deserve.”  
Rhett finally growled.  
Charles trembled and froze in place before Rhett dragged him into the palace with one hand still in his hair and the other still holding his mouth shut.  
It all hurt and he knew the urgency of the situation.  
He kicked and tried to scream, but something inside of him...  
Told him he wanted to see where this would go.


	14. Chapter 14

Charles's fighting quickly melted into nothing more than simple struggling. He knew he was no match against the Barbarian's strength, especially when the man was pissed enough to fight a Bull bare-handed. He twisted his torso every so often in attempts to detangle Rhett's hand from his dark locks, but when they reached the end of one hall he twisted so hard against the tighter clenching fist that it cracked his neck.  
He groaned into the large hand that covered his mouth and trembled as the pain flashed behind his eyes for a few seconds.

\--------------------------

Rhett stiffened a bit when the sound of snapping bones echoed throughout the hallway they were in. The Brat Prince trembled in his arms and the delicious sound of pain that hit his palm made his anger build up into something different. Something that began to stir up his nether regions.  
He let up on the tightness of the hand in the boy's hair, however, and slowly brought that hand the clasp around the back of his neck.  
"Careful." He whispered gruffly into the Prince's ear, who trembled even more when Rhett's hot breath hit his skin. "You're useless to everyone if you're dead. Understood brat?"

To this, Charles's body went rigid, but he momentarily nodded once in silent affirmation that he would in fact be more careful in his struggle.  
"Good." The Gladiator growled in reignited hunger.  
"Now, where's your bedroom?"

\-------------------------------------------------

His mind and heart were in a violent war against one another.  
While Charles's brain screamed that he needed to fight harder to escape and warn anyone he could find about this dangerous man, his mind and body worked against that better judgement by wanting to be adventurous and figure out what exactly this beast wanted to do with him.  
When the stronger man asked for the location of his room, every inch of his being froze.  
His mind screamed louder but also couldn't let him fully ignore the skin that burned hot beneath the hand that actually was CARESSING the back of his injured neck. It actually felt like the ass cared about his physical well being when it was more likely that he didn't want to be responsible for the death of a royal.  
Cerulean eyes glanced to the side to meet twin Emeralds that glowed with hellish intent and, with brows furrowed only slightly in worry, the Prince raised a hand to point the right down another long hall.

The beast dragged him along again but it was noticeably less harsh this time around, the hand still in the back of his neck but the other still pressed against his mouth.  
Charles started to wonder if that would be necessary now? His mind was clearly winning no battles and this man would have to let him go eventually. But would he run once he was released?  
Would he call for help from the guards, his father?  
He was walking easier now and actually stopped fighting against the force of the Gladiator, and before he had a chance to make up his mind about anything he found himself face down in the silk covered throws that were his sleeping space.

\--------------------------------------------------

The Brat was in a daze, probably from the pain, which made everything so much easier.  
Rhett was able to lead him all the way down the hall with no more struggling. In fact, he noticed that the boy was starting to wall faster, but not in any way that he was trying to escape.  
Like he was trying to get to his room faster.  
It couldn't be that the boy was starting to get into this?

Wait... what even was this? At this point, nothing really seemed to have a meaning. Except for revenge. Rhett needed a punching bag to take out his misfortune and pain on, and the Brat Prince was the closest thing to him. Was it right? Of course not. Did it feel good? Hell yes. As they reached a large wooden door that fit into a golden archway at the end of the hall, Rhett was now lost in thought. Maybe the boy wouldn't run once inside, but what was to stop him from telling anyone about this? It was technically already uncermonial rape. But then he remembered the garden. The way Charles sprawled out in that bed of flowers, how his eyes filled with lust every time the Gladiator drew closer to him, when he couldn't help but rut his hips as Rhett licked clean the wounds on his hand. All while needily voicing his protests. They were both in the room now, Rhett not realizing yet that he had already closed the door and brought down a latch that locked it from the inside. Having a look around he could read a little bit more into the boy. A round pool sat in the middle of the large room with recently used candles surrounding it, a thick book sitting on the edge with a golden ribbon peaking between the pages to help save its place. The room was lined with tall openings that acted as windows (plenty of the ledges also being lined with books and busts of famous men and gods) and between two of the Windows was the space he was searching for the most. A nest of wide throw pillows covered in colorful satin cloths and golden silk sheets. The space was large enough for easily four people, and they would be needing all of it. The Prince was still in a daze as Rhett brought him across the room and easily tossed him face down onto the puffy pillows. Once he was there, however, he obviously became aware of himself and everything else as he scrambled to turn and make eye contact with a still standing Rhett. This was the garden all over again. But this time, there would be no maids to interrupt them.

\-----------

"W-wait!" Charles squeaked, scooting further back into his nest of pillows until his back was pressed flat against the cold white marble wall. Eyes wide, he held his hands up in front of him as if that would be enough the stop the brute who was advancing towards him quickly. "P-please..." He whispered this time, so low that he knew the other didn't hear him. He lowered his gaze to his trembling legs but just outside of his line of vision he could tell that the Beast was kneeling in front of him. "Brat." The man growled, closing in further against the shaking boy. Charles bent his arms back when he felt his open palms come into contact with the other's firm body. He could do nothing, WANTED to do nothing, to stop the other from getting closer. His body and heart won the war and were now desperate to know how the other would treat him. Even if he was about to receive something that he did nothing to deserve. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow until the Gladiator was as close as he could be to the Prince without suffocating him. A large hand pressed against the wall to the left of Charles's head, long torso pressed against the still open hands, and knees pressed firmly aginst shaking knees. Charles refused to meet the other's gaze, even when the barbarian began to speak.

\--------------------------------------------------

"Tell me how much you hate me little Vixen." Rhett drawled lowly. "How much you hate the thought of me being this close to you. How much you don't want this." His voice was dripping with both lust and seething rage as he used his free hand to grasp the boy's chin, lifting his head until their gazes locked once more. Those beautiful ocean eyes were sparkling thanks to the moonlight that poured in through the windows and were covered with a thin veil of defiance. The hands against his torso pressed firmly against the robes there... but began to run further up his body. Rhett raised a questioning brow as he noticed the Prince's gaze shift from him to the direction of his hands. They made their way to the ribs, over the heaving pecs, and finally stopped once gripping no the broad shoulders.

\-----------------------------

A God. There was only one way to describe this body and that was it. It had to belong to a God. Rippling musces that were so firm they could be clearly made out through thick robes, shoulders strong and wide set that Charles could only find purchase in them as a safe guard right now, eyes piercing and filled with anger... This man was angry. Angry at Charles for something he had absolutely nothing to do with. Something that he didn't deserve to be punished for... But to all the gods and stars above them this night did he want Rhett to take his anger out on him. All reason and logic abandoned, he gripped those shoulders and inhaled a sharp breath. "I..." He started. "I hate you... so much... GODS I hate you..!" He snarled, gaze narrowing and grip tightening. "Trash... asshole... jerk barbarian!" With each insult he spat, his breath grew heavier and his hands trailed further up Rhett's body until he was wrapping his hands behind his neck and actually dragging him down closer to him.

\------------------------------

Rhett moved easily with Charles's tugging arms, soon finding himself nose-to-nose with the panting Prince. The insults went from shouts, to something resembling whispered praises. "Murderer... Brute... Beast..." He continued despite him now pressing himself to the Gladiator's body. Rhett didn't mind this, but he was still set on his primary goal. To take out his boiling rage on this man. The brat's words soon melted down into nothing but heavy breathing and soft groans. At one point he even bit his lip and he pressed himself impossibly closer to Rhett. "C-come on..." He suddenly mewled. Obviously, it shocked them both as their eyes both widened. But while Rhett's became filed with primal starvation, Charles's overflowed with fear. "Oh?" It was Rhett's turn to respond and bring himself against the boy's body, hands grasping his hips to keep him still as he slowly rutted their ground together. "You seem like you want me to do something like this." He grinned and had to suroess a laugh when he heard the Prince's needy whine. "You want me to make you a bitch. My bitch?"

\------------------------------------------------------------

This was the garden all over again! Charles's mind and body were going insane with each word this bastard spoke, hips rolling and voice slipping with moans and whimpers of pure pleasure. He really did hate this man. Everything about him! This murder's attitude, his stupid beard, those damn muscles, that snarky ass grin he gets when he just knows he's winning... Those big hands that framed his body perfectly... Those eyes that both clamed and terrified him... The way he is so hateful towards the boy at every given moment, but then turns around and licks his wounds clean or massages his hurt neck.... "Wh...what are you..." The Prince whimpered, arms completely wrapped around the larger man's neck. He wasn't sure if this was what he meant to ask, but he got a response.

\----------------------------

Rhett leaned forward, now close enough that both men's breath mingled together. Their bodies continued to lazily roll against each other as he answered the brat's question straight forward.

"Your conqueror."


	15. Chapter 15

Seconds.

 

It only took seconds for all of their robes to be torn away and discarded across the room.

 

Seconds for the Gladiator to lift the Prince into his lap and for both to begin a battle for tongue dominance.

 

Their breath was so hot and heavy together and Charles couldn't help but run his fingers through that... stupid, soft, bushy beard.

 

Both men were stark naked, which revealed a truth that Charles would have rather kept secret even if might've been obvious while they were clothed together.

 

He was much smaller than Rhett.

 

Maybe not height wise (though Rhett was still the taller one by a few inches) but frame wise.

 

He fit well in the barbarian's lap, like it was a spot perfectly made for him.

 

While Rhett's body was broad and firm, Charles's was hourglass shaped and squishy. Especially his tender thighs, an aspect that the brute was very fond of.

 

As their mouths moved languidly, sloppily, and harshly against one another the Gladator couldn't help but keep those thighs in a bruising grip.

 

Charles hated this from the get-go as it was very painful and it would without a doubt leave marks, but at the moment he could care less.

 

In fact, he placed his hands on top of the brute's and felt his fingers work to knead the doughy flesh like a skilled baker.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

It was a flawless victory for Rhett as his tongue pinned down the Brat Prince's. All it took was the distraction of his rounded nails digging deep into the sides of the boy's squishy thighs.

 

They were a dream. Even better than most of the women's he had layed with before!

 

The Prince jolted in pain and dropped his guard, allowing Rhett complete control over every aspect of his body.

 

"Mmm..." He hummed as he pulled away to admire his work.

 

There Charles sat in his lap naked, ubundant raven locks a mess, lovely round chest exanding with each labored breath, and lips... Gods those lips.

 

Rose pink, swollen and spit slick; just barely parted like his eyelids.

 

What a delicate looking creature.

 

How badly he wanted to destroy him even further and leave him looking worse than a buisy street whore.

 

He finally retracted his nails from the tanned flesh, leaving behind multiple crescent shaped indents that very quickly made puffy red welts.

 

The boy whined softly, fingers still stroking through that damn beard and making the Gladiator grin.

 

"Do you still hate me?"

 

\------------------------------------

 

Charles's vision was spinning.

He felt so light and could probably almost be convinced that he was floating if he didn't know any better than to believe in such absurd phenomenon.

 

The harsh abuse on his thighs was lifted and melted away into a burning pain that he relished in a bit too much.

 

As his hands stayed in that beard, his hips swivled and ground down into the beast's lap, spine arching forward a little and shivers tapdancing across every nerve in his system.

 

He was so very lost in a strange world that he had never experienced before, and it was only when Rhett questioned him did he return (somewhat) to reality.

 

He gave a quick nod and opened his eyes just a little wider to lock his gaze with the jerk.

 

"With all by being."

 

\------------------------------

 

"Good."

 

The Gladiator growled and snaked both arms up the other's spine. Fingers traced light trails up the unblemished skin before one set found purchase in the short, thick locks. As that one yanked mercilessly back on the salt and pepper hairs, the other set of fingers dug their nails into the skin directly between the shoulder-blades and dragged down slowly, leaving five puffy lines in their wake.

 

"Ah-AH..!"

 

The boy whimpered and attempted to arch away from the assult, but was restrained by the hand in his hair and blocked by the large torso.

 

"Such a slut." Rhett growled and raised his hand from the back, allowing the other a chance to recover from the pain.

"You like all of this pain. Don't you?"

 

At this, Charles shook his head as best he could with the hand in his hair, earning him an open-handed slap against one plump rear cheek.

 

"Don't lie to me."

 

\----------------------------

 

The Prince jumped with another whine. Jeez... just one smack was causing the cheek to burn terribly.

 

But he would have rather died before letting on how much he actually enjoyed this.

 

In fact, it was better to not think of it as an enjoyable experience.

 

No, this...

 

He was doing this for Christi... to protect her...

 

Suppose he had made it away from the courtyard safely and left Rhett alone to wallow in his thoughts?

 

Then later in the night he decided to attack Christi out of jealous rage?

 

Right now, Rhett was taking his anger out on a person who could handle it and not care afterwards. It was a simple bonus that he hated Charles just as equally and Charles hated him.

 

Yeah...

 

Charles wasn't enjoying this at all because of this dick!

 

He was protecting the person he truly cared about, and if that meant stooping down to the level of a murderous bastard like Gladiator Rhett McLaughlin, then so be it.

 

It was a surprise to him, and most likely Rhett as well, when he lunged forward and pinned the beast beneath him.

 

He had yanked his hair from the other's death grip and was now straddling that wide lap, Cerulean hues gazing down upon the man with a newfound wave confidence.

 

"If it's a partner you want..."

 

Doing it for Christi...

 

"... then I'm willing to indulge you."

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Rhett looked up at the boy. Someone was suddenly very cocky.

 

In more ways than one.

 

The emerlads couldn't help but glance down to the rather impressive appendage that rested lazily against his lower stomach.

 

Fairly long, perhaps the length of the longest stick on a Reed Flute, and sharing the girth of the spine of one of the many medical books around the room.

 

He heard Charles clearly, but he must have been staring for too long as he felt the Prince's hand slowly re-direct his gaze upwards by lifting his chin.

 

Well, Rhett didn't need to be told twice.

 

Or even once.

 

It didn't really matter if the Brat was up for this, Rhett knew he would get his way no matter what.

 

But having a compliant partner was definitely easier. In one fluid movement, Charles was turned completely around in Rhett's lap and pushed forward onto his hands and knees.

 

His Nymph-like body trembled like a leaf in the wind as the Gladiator slowly leaned over his back and nuzzled the shell of his ear.

 

"Ass high." He growled and wrapped an arm around the other's slim waist, keeping him in his knees while the other hand forcefully pressed down on his shoulders causing Charles to loose his arm balance and come face down in the colorful silks.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Doing it for Christi...

 

This is protection in action...

 

Charles kept chanting these things in his head, but they were very much overshadowed by his sudden deep feelings of shame and embarassment.

 

As he lay their beneath the bastard, ass up and face down for him, he couldn't help but groan softly as he felt the weight of something unrecognizable yet so very unmistakable against his backside.

 

"Wanna see it?"

 

The man growled as he suddenly began the suckle the skin behind the Prince's left ear. Charles shifted and turned his head so he wasn't being suffocated by the fabircs, eyes screwed tightly shut. "F-fuck off..." He growled between small puffs of air through his mouth and nose.

 

He felt the man's movements stiffen but it didn't last when he felt his body rise up and move away from him.

 

"Suit yourself." He rumbled.

Charles stayed down in his compromising position for what felt like eons, back arched down like a stretching cat's and knees so locked together that he could clearly feel the night's chilled air lick across his most private parts.

 

But the Gladiator was no longer there.

 

Had he left? Was Charles free?

 

Maybe the asshole finally figured out how wrong this was.

 

Or...what if Rhett was going after Christi now?

 

The Prince's eyes shot open and he sat up on his knees to look around the room.

 

It was dark but thanks to the moonlight hitting the round water bath, he was granted a dim glow of light. The air was quiet...

 

Way too quiet for any sort of comfort.

 

"B-bastard..?"

 

He whispered into the still night.

 

"... Rhett? Are you still here..?"

 

No answer and no indication of another human being in the room with him.

 

Of course, not until he turned to face the wall.

 

Just as his mind began to fabricate horrible thoughts, a large hand slipped around his throat from behind and forced his head back. His sparkling eyes were forced to gaze upon the Barbarian from his knees-up, taking in every God damningly beautiful thing about that piece of complete garbage.

 

His thighs were extremely firm, and they led to perfectly sculpted hips which were the place of residence for something that made the small Prince shake with more overwhelming embarrassment.

 

The jerk was hung like a fucking HORSE!

 

The thing swung above his face almost mockingly and when he forced a harsh swallow down his throat, he could feel his sharp goozle jab against the man's palm.

 

\------------------------------

 

He tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. The look in the boy's eyes was so delicious, he couldn't possibly be aware that he was making such a face.

 

Glazed over saphires transfixed on Rhett's blessed manhood, lips parted slightly and twitching at the corners as if he were forcing back a smile, and breath growing heavier with each passing moment spent in silence.

 

He just had to be a tease, so he slowly swayed his hips from side to side which caused the member to swing lightly in the air. "Yeah. I know you like that slut." He chuckled lowly. "You're drooling for it."

As he said this, the Prince forced his lips together in a thin line but his eyes never left the swinging object of his current obvious desire. "You... you left..?" The Brat whispered.

 

Rhett caught the question and all of the sudden he couldn't surpress a booming laugh. "Oh, what? Worried I'd leave you high and dry brat?" He poked fun at the smaller man who was trembling again.

 

Probably with embarrassment.

 

Most likely with anger.

 

Good thing Rhett liked feisty.

 

However, when his laughter subsided he lowered himself to his knees and kissed the Prince's forhead, hand still forcing his head back.

 

"You apparently didn't hear it, but one of the guards knocked on your door."


End file.
